Anna and Me and the Sa-shee-mee
Anna and me and 30 crates of future sa-shee-mee are stuck on I-90C, America’s only interstate canal. A kayak’s jackknifed up ahead, blocking both directions, and our fishies are stewing in the sun, slowly turning into gumbo.
“We’re on water,” Anna says. “Ya gotta think outside the boat.”
She grabs a fine-mesh net and I start dumping in the crates while she gets snorkeled up. There’s a splash and then she’s getting pulled along like a professional fish-walker.
“I couldn’t hold ‘em,” she gasps when I find her twenty miles later.
Danged if that wasn’t the fishies’ plan all along.